


B is for Bars

by ms45



Series: Fluffy Mackerel Pudding [3]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-18
Updated: 2012-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-10 05:40:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/462803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms45/pseuds/ms45
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic prompt by platefullsofnothing on Tumblr - "Isabela and Merrill and a word game to pass the time."</p>
            </blockquote>





	B is for Bars

“Something beginning wiiiiiith… B.”

“…bricks?”

It really wasn’t fair, thought Merrill. She’d barely had a drop to drink, and she certainly hadn’t started any shenanigans.

“Try again.”

 “Bars.”

She hadn’t even seen who started it. It  _might_  have been Isabela, of course, but it might  _not_  have been. The Hanged Man was full of the sort of people who weren’t afraid of a fight. They quite enjoyed it, in fact.

“Oh, good guess Kitten! Your turn.”

“Isabela, there really isn’t much to spy in here.”

“Of course there is! You just need to tap into your rogue sense. I know you’re a mage, but you just need to pay careful attention. You know, like you do with those musty old books.”

Merrill adored Isabela, but she had to stop herself from zapping her from neck to arsehole. “Musty old books”! The little witch’s hands squeezed the stone sticking into her bum as she gritted her teeth. Then it came to her.

“I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with B.”

Isabela raised an eyebrow. “Not bars?” Merrill shook her head.

“Not bricks?”

“Nn-nn.”

Isabela stood up and turned around, pacing the cell as if looking for traps. “B, b, b… burlap?” she suggested, pouncing on a wet and muddy sack apparently provided to make prisoners feel even more uncomfortable than they would on the brick floor.

“No.”

And of course, whoever started it, Merrill had to stand up for her friend. She tried very hard not to use magic where anyone could see, but a quick mind blast in a bar brawl would just make everyone think they’d been punched in the jaw. Since they probably  _had_  been punched in the jaw, it shouldn’t be a problem.

“Ooh! Besom!” Isabela was excitedly pointing to a broom perched almost out of sight at the end of the hallway. Merrill wondered if she should tell her that “besom” meant something quite unflattering in Dalish, then decided not to. Then Isabela wouldn’t be the only one who knew what the dirty things were.

“I can’t see that from here.”

Then the guards had burst in, Aveline at their head, and everyone had been arrested and dragged off to the cells. Merrill had tried to tell the guard pinching her arm that she was a friend of the Guard-Captain, and pointed to her, only to have Aveline glare at her and turn away to swing Isabela over her shoulder like the pirate was just a hessian sack. Even if she could have used magic discreetly, she was nearly out of mana, so she let the guardsman haul her off to the cells, where Aveline had ordered her to be locked up with Isabela. Which was quite odd, really. Did she want Merrill to protect Isabela? Or to prevent her from escaping?

The pirate was pacing now, golden eyes picking out every detail, every pattern and aberration. Merrill let her pace. Surely she would soon notice that her corset was in tatters, and her  _boobies_  were the only thing that could be seen in the whole room.


End file.
